


Polychromatic

by ArcherEmpyrean



Series: Chroma [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Angst and Porn, Bullying, Cliche Art Folder, Coming Out, Gratuitous Smut, Heavy Angst, Is This Enough Angst For You Yet, Loki Angst, M/M, Teacher-Student Relationship, Teen Angst, Unrequited Love, Weird Art Kid, Which is mostly on the side and if you really want to read that you should be reading Achromatic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-25
Updated: 2013-09-25
Packaged: 2017-12-27 15:00:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/980279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcherEmpyrean/pseuds/ArcherEmpyrean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luka Odinson was okay. He was okay with things being mediocre, he was okay with being nobody, he was okay with being alone. Maybe he wasn't happy, but he was okay, and <i>that</i> was okay too, wasn't it? </p>
<p>Until a boy named Tony came hurtling headfirst into his life, without invitation or apology, and simply refused to leave. And maybe Luka didn't want him to, because suddenly nothing was just 'okay' ever again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Polychromatic

**Author's Note:**

> Master here. So it's been almost a year since I started Chroma. If you've been following it, you also know I only posted one chapter for it - it's been a pretty hectic year. However, I truly do love this story and would like to continue it, and I am still hoping someone will coauthor it with me, but as of now I guess I'll be flying solo. 
> 
> Warnings are subject to change.

The most important thing Luka "Loki" Odinson ever owned was a battered brown accordion folder with more memories wrapped in its embrace than it had any right to hold. 

He held it in his hands, fingertips rubbing over worn corners made of thick paper, pulling gently on the fraying elastic cord that held it closed, stretched out by time and carelessness. His name was written in large, generous letters across the top, scrawled many years ago by an adult's hand when he was still a child. The rest of the folder was decorated with stickers and scribbles and friend's doodles and memories he couldn't quite recall anymore. 

He looked down at the most precious thing he owned, knowing it would be the last time, and opened it, unleashing the past. 

 

* * *

 

"What're you drawing?"

Luka started, almost instinctively pulling the pad of paper closer, staring at the other boy suspiciously. Kids didn't ask what he was drawing unless they wanted to tease him about it. "Nothing. A picture."

The boy reached over, tugging the pad back into view, clearly having no concept of personal space. "It looks like a robot. Robots are awesome."

Luka pulled the drawing back, unconvinced by the boy's ploy at friendliness. "Yeah." He expected the other to leave, and was caught between surprise and annoyance when he didn't, and instead plopped himself down next to Luka on the edge of the playground. 

"I like robots. I can't draw them but I'm gonna build them when I grow up. Really cool ones that blow stuff up. Are you gonna be an artist or something?"

Luka looked down at the drawing, which looked nowhere near as good as it had in his head. "I dunno. I'm not really that good."

"What?! Dude, this is the coolest picture ever, I bet people would pay loads of money for stuff like that!" The other fourth grader seemed enthusiastic and sincere, his eyes wide and honest. 

But Luka knew better. "Art is not a practical career choice," he snapped haughtily, repeating a sentiment his father often voiced. "Artists don't eat enough." There was a better way to word that, but he couldn't think of what it was immediately. 

The boy's eyes stayed earnest. "Then you can come work for me and design robots. I'll pay you a lot and you'll get to eat all the time if you want to."

Luka narrowed his eyes at the boy, sure he was being teased. However, before he could think of a properly scathing reply, his teacher rang her hand-bell, signaling the end of recess for his class. He turned to go, fully prepared to ignore the boy that was trying to hold his attention. 

"Hey!"

Luka looked back when he felt his arm being tugged on. "What? I have to go."

"What's your name?"

"Luka." He inwardly cringed when the name slipped out before he could think to stop himself. The boy's nose wrinkled a bit and Luka braced himself for the onslaught of teasing that usually resulted from another kid finding out his unusual and irritatingly girly name. 

"Luka? Huh." The boy considered it and then shrugged before offering his hand in a very adult way that suggested his father might a businessman of some type. His wide, friendly grin ruined the effect. "I'm Tony."

 

* * *

 

The next day, Tony immediately sat himself down next to Luka again without invitation. Luka glared at him skeptically. "What do you want?"

"I wanna talk about robots again." 

Luka felt inclined to outright tell the boy to go away, but if Tony really wasn't teasing him, then being rude would make him look stupid. "I'm not drawing robots today."

"That's okay. I can draw robots. Give me a piece of paper."

Luka frowned. "No." It wasn't so much that he didn't want to share, or even that he didn't want to be friends. He wasn't antisocial by choice, really. He wanted friends, desperately, but the stern teacher called Experience had taught him that being alone was better than inviting trouble by attempting socialization. However, when Tony commanded he be given a piece of paper, it wan't Luka's self-defense walls that went up, but rather, his resentment toward being told to do _anything_. "Go get your own."

"I am getting my own, give it over." Tony held his hand out impatiently.

"This is my paper, I'm not giving you any."

"Give it!" Tony looked frustrated, clearly unused to being denied much of anything. 

"No!" The bickering continued for several minutes until Luka gave Tony half a piece of paper, as compromise. He watched the other boy scribble a badly-drawn robot man flying over a blocky city. When he spoke, his young voice laced with skepticism. "Why do you keep hanging out with me?"

Tony didn't hesitate in his talentless scrawling. "Because we're friends."

Luka was taken aback. "We are?"

Tony paused, lifting his head and staring straight ahead, as if weighing something in his mind or making important calculations. After a moment, he nodded decisively. "Yes."

"Oh." Luka looked back down at his own doodle, smiling slightly, the expression feeling awkward on his face. He hadn't known people could just decide to be friends - he always thought it was something that sort of happened by lucky accident, like winning a prize in a claw machine. "Cool."

Over the next seven years, Luka would come to realize that this was precisely how Tony always operated - he could see what he wanted the world to be. And then, by sheer force of will alone, he could force the world to become what he saw. He'd seen it in that robot drawing, and he'd seen it in Luka, from that very first day. 

 

* * *

 

Loki ran his fingers over the small, carelessly smudged fingerprints on the page. The drawing exhibited the chunky, awkward proportions and lack of finesse typical of childhood artwork, the paper itself crinkled and faded. But still he kept it all these years, the echoes of that first conversation whispering in his head every time he looked at it. 

Carefully, he set the drawing of the robot aside and turned his attention to the next page.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a sister story with Achromatic, which you can find by opening the Chroma series link. In my opinion, the stories can be read in any order, but they may not seem to relate much for a while yet. Time will tell.


End file.
